Turning 40 and the Faithfulness of God

Reflections on blessings, loss, regret, and the enduring comfort of Christ

Today I turned 40. Amongst other things, this marks the age when deadlifting without proper warm-up sets becomes perilous. My lower back pain is proof.

It also, for me, marks an age where, statistically speaking, I have about as much life behind me as I hope to have in front of me. Only the Lord knows, and I don’t want to presume. I could breathe my last breath before posting this. But regardless of how long the Lord preserves my life, the fact remains: I have now lived long enough to have some things to reflect upon. I’m not sure if it is a common experience, but I find myself looking back more than ahead these days, and I thought I should articulate some of these reflections, even if only for myself.

Gratitude:

Of course, I have much to be thankful for, although I spend far too little time reflecting on this and offering to God the gratitude He deserves.

I’m not sure how much of it is a natural disposition, but I am more aware than most people of the problems around me and within me. I don’t coast through life with the same ease and indifference that I see in many people. I become concerned with troubles very easily. I think that’s actually a big reason for why I’ve been a part of planting a church, starting a school, starting a business, and leading a ministry. I see a lack or need, and I assume it’s up to me to provide at least a part of the solution. One of the consequences of this mentality, however, is that contentment and gratitude are more elusive than they ought to be.

But an honest assessment of my life would warrant unending thanks to our Lord.

He has blessed me far beyond what I deserve.

Firstly, I am His. I have been rescued from death, and given eternal life. My sins are forgiven. I know the truth, and it has set me free. Nothing else compares.

Further, I married a 1-of-1 woman, who is truly committed to my good, even above her own. She is someone I admire and respect in her own right and, for some reason, she has given herself to helping me. Virtually all of the other blessings and fruit in my life are a direct result of her love and support. She’s the person I most want to be around, and the human source of whatever strength I have to fight evil as best I can. She is an incredible mother to our two children, who fill me with pride and delight. My home is a busy but happy place, and the love is deep.

I have the honour and blessing of pastoring a church that I love and enjoy. I have the blessing of serving alongside elders whom I love and respect. My top-two favourite preachers are also members of my own church, so I am well-fed when I take a break. My family is respected and loved by our congregation. Not many pastors, I have come to realize, can say all of that. I get the blessing of focusing my heart on God’s word each Sunday, and worshiping our Lord through preaching. That’s what I love most in life, and when I feel as though I am living according to God’s will for me; when Jesus Christ is big, and we get to glimpse Him in Spirit and truth, even if only in a mirror, dimly for now.

I often tell Bec, our riches are our relationships. We have loving and loyal friends, of such a calibre that is uncommon in this dark world. Truly, they are worth more than any riches in the world. I haven’t known what it is to be alone, perhaps forever. And that is a rare gift.

Loss:

As I have now lived a little while in this fallen world, I am increasingly marked by a feeling of loss. I don’t spend as much time looking forward in anticipation as I do looking back in sadness.

The first funeral I officiated for our church was my own Dad. I’ve experienced the joy and excitement of my wife’s announcement of pregnancy, and the pain of loss. Twice. I’ve buried my friend. I’ve done more funerals with tiny coffins than I ever feared I would, and seen infants and children take their last breaths. I’ve had close friends who shared many meals around my family table become treacherous. Even the city and nation in which I reside has become nearly unrecognizable to me.

I’ve seen many things I love disappear, and I carry a sadness with me now that, at this point, I just accept. I’m tired now, and it is the kind of tired sleep doesn’t fix.

Could I be more thankful? Yes. Could I be less anxious? Yes.

But could I unburden myself completely from the pain of loss, the horror of death, and the sorrow I carry each day? No.

That’s a job for our Lord.

My job is to rejoice in the midst of it (cf. 2 Cor 6:10).

Regret:

Now that I’ve lived a little while, it feels at times like I have experienced as much failure as fruit.

One of the pervasive feelings I experience is that of regret. I think of these things at night, when the house is quiet and memories flood my mind. I regret not having more courage as a teenager to stick up for those who were looked down upon and mistreated. I regret not having more love and patience with my dying father. I wonder about the brothers and friends who fell away, and if I could have done more. I think of my failures to love my daughters as I ought, or to enjoy them more fully while I was anxious about many things. I regret ever being irritated and unloving with a woman who has shown me extraordinary love and respect, and of the kind few men experience.

These things come to mind often now.

One of the ways in which I have had to mature is to adopt a realistic view of a fallen world, without succumbing to anger, bitterness, and despair. And how to walk in repentance and faith, not enslaved to past failures. In some ways, I feel like I’m in the middle of that process.

Hope:

I thought about the remedy to my failures and fears and sorrows and regrets. I thought about the hope I need to sustain me for whatever days I have left. I keep circling back to the beautiful words of the Catechism:

“What is your only comfort in life and in death?

That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death— to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.”

This has always been all I’ve had, however much I’ve realized it, and all I’ve ever needed. And it will be enough whether I barely last the day, or am granted decades more.